We are playing chess on the porch, Conrad and I. It is a Sunday and the sky is settling into the creamiest bluest blue I have ever seen in my life and I can't tell you how much I am in lovelovelove with it.

And Conrad smiles as he looks down at the pieces, whispering little nothings into the air as he contemplates where he should move next. But neither of us are good at the game - Dex had to coach us through the last (and first) two games that we played, and even then it took an hour to figure out only three quarters of the rules.

I sit a litle taller when his eyes come raking back up, and he looks at me through his darkdarkdark eyelashes and my heart flutters just a little bit. Conrad is tall, and when he sits, he is beautiful. His longlonglong back curves over and his shoulder blades spike out just a little through his Aeropostale shirt (it's my favourite because I picked it when we went shopping with Dex that day, because Dex's pants were all too small and it was bothering the hell out of both of us).

And I don't let myself slouch back over because that is admitting defeat. I pull my hair out of my eyes. And I continue waiting. There's a clock on the wall opposite from where I can see through the window, and it ticktickticks away. One minute passes, and then another. Conrad moves. I look down at the board, and there are those little pieces, glass and some sort of material that is almost glass.

I'm not a good judge of where is good to move. Still, it's only my third game in ever, so I take the first piece I see and hope that it's a good one, and I set it down gently on the glass checkered board.

"You're dumb," Conrad informs me seriously, smiling with his robin egg eyes. They are speckled and sososo blue and I fall right in them and only just remember to climb back out. It's a long way down if you fall into that Conrad's eyes.

I make an offended sound and lick my lips, and twist my mouth to one side, wondering just how dumb I really am. Conrad clears his throat and I look up into his eyes, and they're a little darker than they should be. I smile and when he isn't looking, the hand I am leaning my body weight on scoots just (alittlecloser).

Five minutes later, his hand is closer than I remember. Ten minutes after that, he is this close to winning the game, and I am frustrated out of my mind because I cannot understand what I am doing wrong.

"You're dumb," he repeats, and I whine.

"That's not fair, Con. It's not my fault I'm not a geek like you."

He wrinkles his nose at me and I pretend it's not absolutely adorable. No, I turn my head and suck in a little bit of air and I keep on (pretendingbecause) I can't do much else. We sit through the rest of the game, and then it hits me. If I move like this, over there, then I have a chance. This tiny, tiny chance of winning. But I take it, and Conrad looks stunned. I'm awfully proud of myself now.

"Checkmate," I say, right in his face, grinning from ear to studded ear.

And then his eyes flash, shinyglimmerybeautiful, and he leans forwards and his lips melt into mine. I'm not too surprised, because I should have known this was coming, but I fall back a little anyways, and he leans to replace the space I have lost. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle a little, and he smiles, right up against my lips.

And when we break apart, the chess board long forgotten, he says cheekily, "Checkmate."

it's here. it's here. it's heeeere.and it's not much.hmhmmh. two days off from school, i should be able to get more work done :)